


and with this ribbon

by kinpika



Series: signed, sealed, delivered [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: F/M, Making promises to each other, Sappy, Somewhere in early '92, Written for Valentine's, post school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-17 00:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19328881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinpika/pseuds/kinpika
Summary: And Natasha thinks, as she follows his broad back out into the hallway, down the stairs, weaving into the muggle crowds, that he and the sun had a lot in common.





	and with this ribbon

It’s probably quite excessive, but Natasha was nothing if not absolute.

Fretting over minor details, of course, but candlelight dinner on a secluded cliff overlooking the sea wasn’t just _anything_. Some of the most important moments in her life had happened in similar places, and she was practical in thinking this was the next step. Perhaps too logical, in how she packs the basket, folds the blanket, smooths her dress. Checks her hair exactly five times, teeth twice. Nothing Charlie hadn’t seen before, of course, _of course_. 

But her hands shake as she carries everything carefully. Nervous tension that has her jaw lock, eyes narrow. Like there was too much to think or say, and nothing was going to make it’s way out. Did she put her foot forward first, or did she check the basket once more? Was her hair neat, teeth brushed, dress clean? 

Would he say ‘no’?

And that thought has her almost crumple, give in. Ready to wave the white flag and leave. It wouldn’t be too hard to runaway then and there — she knew that her uncle was only a few hours away, easy enough to Apparate to. Closing her eyes, Natasha tries to think of nothing. Of something.

Of _Charlie_. And his lopsided grin, complete with only one dimple. The too many freckles that covered his shoulders and thighs, mapping out his own universe. How he laughed at her stupid jokes, and how his mother still cut his hair, and how he always wrote home to Ginny, complete with little doodles in the columns. Natasha thought of Charlie, and how easy it was to love him, entirely and honestly. 

She could do this. Whilst her hands don’t stop shaking, and she can hear the negative thoughts, Natasha opens the door to where he stood. Smiling brightly, taking the basket off her hands without pause. Charlie was almost a little too bright to look at, like seeing the sun out the corner of her eye. And Natasha thinks, as she follows his broad back out into the hallway, down the stairs, weaving into the muggle crowds, that he and the sun had a lot in common.

* * *

Charlie believes Natasha when she talks about the moon. 

About muggles setting foot on something so far away, about how it affects the tide, and the magic deep within their souls. He’s out of touch, sure, when she giggles, slaps his shoulder, insists that it all happened. And Charlie knows, of course he does — but there was something in the way, where if he played dumb, made her laugh, that the sadness in her eyes finally seemed to fade away.

So they sit under the stars, water lapping at their feet, far from prying eyes. The smallest amount of sparks fly from the tip of their wands, dancing into the air, accompanying stories she told. Voice hushed, a secret just for them. Natasha waves her hands as she speaks, as if attending to a crowd of just more than Charlie and the sea.

He’s enraptured, anyway. Always. There’s light in her eyes, and her smile is wide. Charlie couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her like this. So unguarded even before him. It’s like the scars fade away, and they’re eleven again, stepping into Hogwarts with bright eyes. Fourteen, breaking every rule (and then some). He remembers being sixteen, and their first kiss under the summer sun. 

To say his heart lurched would be an understatement. Natasha was still wrapped up in her story, not noticing how Charlie just ran through the last few years of their lives together. Which was fine, of course. No need to stop her when she was like this. He would just have a minor breakdown as the water covered his toes. Jumping from one event to the next, zeroing in on every minute action. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d felt like this. Granted, the last time had been just before their seventh year, where everything went strange. They got through it, of course — Charlie doubted they would both be here now if they hadn’t — but when he finally turns to look at her, everything was just a little bit different. The world was just a little more rosy. 

* * *

Natasha kneels on the blanket, all too quickly, and Charlie knew something was about to happen. A similar thought, perhaps, that passes through her mind. How he moves to mimic how she was sitting. They face each other, quiet, the sound of the waves their only companion.

In her right hand, squashed into a fist, was a ribbon. Simple, effective. It takes a lot for Natasha to tell herself to show Charlie just what she was hiding. He made the connections immediately, swallowing loudly, when Natasha draws it out between her hands. 

The ribbon itself was rather plain. But it was the meaning, hidden there, in how Natasha pulls it taut before relaxing only a fraction. Charlie would later make a quip, about how she was secretly a romantic at heart, but in that moment, his heart hammered in his chest, and he could only watch how she was lost for words. 

Much like he was. Natasha didn’t know where to start, what to say. There was no proper guides on the next course of action (and she had checked), whereas her gut feeling had apparently abandoned her in favour for sheer fear. 

“Charlie—” “Nat—”

They both start at the same time. Knee-jerk reaction, which has a momentary pause. Before finally, _finally,_ they laugh. Like a _pop!_ in the tension, and Natasha doesn’t try to screw the ribbon up any further than she already had. Lays it flat in her lap, looking up at Charlie from under her lashes. Man, she really loved him.

He’s soft. In expression, in smile. In how his shoulders droop, and his hands press into the grass below. How Charlie leans forward, pressing his lips gently, carefully, against hers. Charlie is tender, when he speaks against the skin _just_ there, at the corner of her mouth. “Shall we?”

Natasha wanted to say, that not many people gave Charlie enough credit. That it was all her. That Charlie needed to show just how slick he could be when he wanted to, more often. Except she kisses him back, bordering on the left side of chaste, and rests her forehead against his.

“Are you sure?”

“Always.”

Taking the ribbon from her, Charlie is careful, as he ties the end around her ring finger. Not too tight, topping it off with raising her hand to his lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His voice is far too honest, and it almost has her in tears. 

Her turn, with Natasha tying the opposite end around his finger this time. Her own fingers don’t want to cooperate, but she gets there. Notes that this was a little silly, but perfect. Perfect, when she kisses each and every knuckle on his left hand, pausing a second longer on the ribbon. Not wanting to raise her eyes, and risk completely falling apart at that moment, she finds herself asking:

“You know what this means?”

Charlie frowns, notes how she was looking away. “What?” He could feel his chest tighten again, a certain amount of fear building, cutting in. 

Finally, Natasha meets his eye. She’s watery, lower lip wobbling, eyes shining. But… happy. So genuinely happy, Charlie could say that she was honestly shining. “You can’t get rid of me now, even if you try.”

And he has to snort at that. Right hand looping around, to cup her cheek, push the hair out of her eyes, thumb brushing the trails of tears away. With their entwined left hands between them, Charlie nudges her in. Has to sniff, as his own tears hadn’t stopped yet either. “I wouldn’t want that, ever.”


End file.
